


Luminous

by kumjongin



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Child Abuse, Depression, Homophobia, M/M, Mentioned suicide, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:22:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8189777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kumjongin/pseuds/kumjongin
Summary: Jongin's past haunts him like a nightmare and Taemin is here to be his light. [Canon!AU, through the years]





	

**Author's Note:**

> I promise this fic ends happily, but _please_ pay attention to the warnings.

Jongin is a quiet child, sullen and mostly alone as he avoids the other kids who try to make friends with him. His parents are called about his behavior, appointments are made with the guidance counselor. And he can only give them all the same answer. “I'm afraid of them.”  
  
Are you being bullied? Is something going on at home? What's the worst thing that can happen?  
  
He can only shake his head to their questions and shrug his shoulders when they ask why he's afraid. It isn't exactly true. Kids sometimes taunt him for being too quiet and for having skin that's tanned even in the winter. And those comments just make him freeze up and withdraw into his shell a little more.  
  
At home, they look at him strangely for not wanting to be with the other kids. His sisters ask him why he's a crybaby and his dad frowns in perceived disappointment when he thinks Jongin isn't looking. His mom is always comforting, but he hears the way that other boys call each other “momma's boy” like it's an insult and he wonders if he should be so close to his mother.  
  
But he's scared of the counselors as well, so all he can do is shake his head and shrug.  
  
Over Christmas break, he goes with his family to see The Nutcracker and he falls in love for the first time. The graceful ebb and flow of the dancers on the stage draws his dark eyes and his fingers clench into fists, studying their every motion with rapt attention he's never shown anything else.  
  
His mother notices, and after the ballet when they all crowd into a little cafe for hot cocoa and coffee he speaks with sparkling eyes about wanting to be onstage with them. He calls them beautiful, tells them all that he wishes he could be just like that when he grows up. It's the first time he's ever said anything of the sort, the first time he's shown a glimpse of passion for something. So although he gets a questioning look from his father, they agree to let him enroll in ballet classes. He already does jazz after a bout of failed attempts to do piano, so his mother insists that there's no harm in branching out.  
  
The classes are mostly made up of girls, which really isn't that much of a surprise. And he doesn't care, the girls in his school are usually nicer to him than the boys anyway. It's only the beginning of making it to that stage, but he's in love with dancing immediately.  
  
  
  
  
As a preteen, Jongin isn't much better. He still keeps to himself and shies away from prying eyes and probing questions. But there's a group of people he's made friends with, or so they say. Mostly it's that he ends up sitting with them at lunch and nods his head at their stories and that seems to be all they want from him.  
  
But most of all, it's his love of dance that keeps him going. Only when he dances does he realize what it means to be happy. He performs when the dance studio puts on a performance, and people say that he almost transforms when he dances. He only shrugs them away with a shy smile and a mumbled word of thanks.  
  
The teasing, however, gets worse. People call him a freak, say that he's ugly and make jokes about his skin color incessantly. He tries to ignore them and just hides in on himself, but it doesn't work as well as he wants it to.  
  
Some nights he ends up gasping for breath as he hunches over himself, tears streaming down his cheeks and a heavy weight settled on his chest. Sometimes he claws at his own skin, aching to be free from himself and creating harsh marks in his wake. He can only wait until the wave crashes over him, usually passing out from the sheer exhaustion of his emotions.  
  
“What the fuck is wrong with you, fairy?” snarls one of his schoolmates as he backs Jongin against the lockers.  
  
Jongin averts his eyes, fingers clutching onto the strap of his bookbag. His throat closes up on him, unable to form words if he even desired to.  
  
A hand shoots out and shoves him back against the metal. “Disgusting fag,” he growls low in the back of his throat, giving another immediate shove into the lockers before stomping off with a group of similar-minded boys.  
  
Only once they're around the corner does Jongin even attempt to breathe again, lungs burning and shoulder aching from where it collided with the locker repeatedly. He doesn't know why the attack came, but it isn't as though it hasn't happened before. Faggot and fairy seem to be their new favorite insults for him.  
  
  
  
  
His world changes when his dance teacher suggests to him that he should maybe try out for one of the entertainment companies. Jongin has never considered it, never thought he was good enough or attractive enough to even be up for consideration. Despite his usual shy smile brushing off her compliment, the thought buries itself in the back of his mind.  
  
That year, he goes and sees a pop group perform, and he falls in love for the second time. They are everything he wishes he could be, his heart burns with the desire to be on a stage just like them. He craves the command of an audience, can almost taste sweetness of possibility. That night is another pinpoint of light in his darkened mind.  
  
So he speaks to his mother, asks her what he should do. And, as any mother would do, she encourages that he should go after any dream he desires. With an embarrassed smile, he agrees, and it isn't long after that he ends up with an appointment to audition for one of the top companies.  
  
Practicing becomes his entire world, his parents have to pull him away from his room to bring him to the dinner table. He skims over all of his homework so that he can have more time to practice, any lingering attempts by his supposed friends go ignored as he brushes them aside with the excuse that he has plans. It isn't a lie, his plans are just finding something better for himself. That week, he hardly even blinks when people taunt him, because for once he has something to look forward to.  
  
He's nervous, doubts and reminders of never being good enough worm their way to the surface the night before the audition. He can't breathe for fear of the rejection he's convinced he will receive. But the alternative is worse, of never being onstage and never becoming the person he desperately seeks.  
  
When he's before the judges, his eyes glaze over and his mind turns to complete blackness. He refuses to think, refuses to doubt, refuses to give into the never-ending darkness. Instead, he simply feels, he goes through the motions and is lead purely by the passion that lay dormant inside of him for so long.  
  
It's weeks later that he gets the call, his mother's the one that answers while he bites at nerve-shorn fingernails.  
  
Yes, this is Jongin's mother. He did? You what? Can you please repeat that for me? Of course, where shall I bring him?  
  
When she hangs up, she stands still for a moment before turning to Jongin. “That was the company...they want you to train with them,” her voice is punctuated by disbelief.  
  
Jongin's eyes go wide, heart suddenly hammering in his chest. “Seriously?” is all he can breathe out before his mom lets out a congratulatory yell and swoops in to hug him. They celebrate that evening, the first time they've ever had a special dinner on account of Jongin. And he smiles more than he ever has in his life.  
  
  
  
  
Being a trainee isn't exactly what he expects. He still has to go through school and all of his free time is eaten away by his new loyalty to the company. His mother worries, but he reminds her that it's what he wants and for once it's something he loves so he doesn't mind putting in long hours of practice and hours on a train. At school most people still treat him the same way, even though the rumor of his training spread for a while. The girls, however, seem to suddenly take a bit more interest.  
  
It's a few months into it that he sees the brightest star that's ever lit up his galaxy. He's just changed from his school uniform and into his loose workout clothing to go into the practice room. Although there's always multiple people in the room, none of the others matter when Jongin sees him.  
  
His dancing is gorgeous in ways that Jongin has no knowledge of. It's sharp and precise, and there's a fire in his eyes that makes Jongin almost self-conscious. Though plenty of other boys are able to dance well, none are this one. And that's how Jongin falls in love for the third time.  
  
The shining star doesn't notice him at first, too locked into his dance and routine to notice anyone else. But once the song is over, he turns to look, feeling eyes heavy on him. “Hi,” he greets brightly.  
  
Jongin's chest aches suddenly, and his lips part to crack a small smile, though it's forced and probably strange looking given how unused to it he is. “Um, hi,” is all he can manage to squeak out, voice a bit dry from disuse.  
  
“What's your name? I'm Taemin, are you new here?” he asks, tilting his head slightly in curiosity.  
  
“Uh, yeah. I'm Jongin. You dance really well,” he mutters the last part. So far, most of the others haven't paid him much attention, only sizing him up for competition before deciding to snub him entirely.  
  
Taemin laughs, the sound easy and as bright as he is. “Thank you. Come on, Jongin, let's dance together,” he offers.  
  
He's never met anyone who seemed so genuinely kind, anyone who wanted to actually include him out of their own desire rather than feeling obligated. It's strange, but he can hardly say no.  
  
That's how their friendship is born, with the two frequently meeting up after they are done with school to practice at the company together. They are both such different dancers that Jongin feels inadequate, knows that Taemin could teach him so much more than he could ever think to learn on his own.  
  
Jongin learns about him so easily, the other like an open-book with every word that spills from his lips a glimpse inside another chapter. He is captivated. He's been a trainee longer than Jongin, and his love of dance comes from a place of performance, wanting to be on stage to please people and show himself to the world.  
  
He, however, doesn't open up to show Taemin much of anything. He speaks of his dogs, of his sisters briefly, but he won't breathe a word of school and the hatred that surrounds him. Taemin is his haven away from all of that, and he won't cloud it up with more burning grey.  
  
He is the light to Jongin's darkness. Everything about him radiates with sunshine and brightness, from his easy smile to the bright way he lights up when he's excited about something. He is everything Jongin wishes he could be for people, instead of the dark, sullen reality of his existence. Where Taemin is a bursting supernova, Jongin burns the darkness that falls in its wake.  
  
For the first time, Jongin becomes comfortable around someone who isn't in his immediate family. It happens slowly, but Taemin doesn't seem to mind that Jongin is too quiet and always seems sad. He allows him to exist, and Jongin immediately likes him more for it.  
  
Their friendship isn't only defined by dancing. On nights when they've both practiced too late, they end up at a noodle restaurant that's inexpensive and near the company building. Although they dance for so many hours, Taemin still speaks about everything with the same fervor and excitement he always does, and Jongin allows faint smiles to pass over his lips as he eats his noodles and listens to his friend speak. Sometimes they meet up in the mornings on the weekends, stopping at a cafe to get hot chocolate and muffins before they dance.  
  
He finds out that Taemin is the lowest energy when he doesn't feel like he does a routine correctly, and Jongin offers him a sympathetic smile and says that he still looked great. Jongin is always sleepy late nights and early mornings, and Taemin just ruffles his hair and reminds him to sleep as soon as he gets home. They're the same age, but sometimes Taemin likes to pretend he's older.  
  
Through knowing Taemin, Jongin learns how to smile properly. When he's around him, he doesn't need to put on some sort of act or be afraid of what he might do or say, and Taemin draws more smiles out of Jongin than ever.  
  
Sometimes they fall asleep in the practice rooms, when it's too late to catch the train back home and they know they'll just be back in the morning anyway. When Taemin sleeps, he spreads out and sometimes his leg brushes out against Jongin. When Jongin sleeps, he curls in on himself and huddles against the wall. But waking up to see Taemin drooling over the hoodie he used as a pillow makes him laugh, and he lightly kicks the other boy to rouse him so they can carry on with their day.  
  
School doesn't matter to Jongin any more. He does his bare minimum to get by only so he can focus on getting better, though people still keep taunting and teasing him. They still call him fairy, say that he needs to bleach his skin, only now they add that he's too ugly and useless to ever make it as a star. He still gets shoved around, and his sadness still weighs him down at night, but there's always Taemin and dancing to show him that there's light in his galaxy after all.  
  
One afternoon when Taemin can't meet him because he has a doctor's appointment, Jongin still goes and practices in the room, memorizing and rehearsing over and over again. Most of the time he dances to what they give him, what they suggest he should be learning. But it's late and almost everyone else is gone, so he changes the song on his iPod and begins a routine only for himself.  
  
On his third run-through, there's a sudden exclamation behind him, and Jongin spins around in shock to see Taemin watching him. “What's wrong? And why are you here anyway, dummy?” he asks with a slight frown, trying to quiet his startled heartbeat.  
  
Taemin waves him away. “What was that routine? That was so cool! Teach me?” he asks, eyes wide and bright again as he approaches Jongin.  
  
Embarrassment heats up his face briefly, questioning whether or not the other is mocking him or not before he sees the sincerity written there. “Really? It wasn't much,” he mumbles. He's never been the one to teach Taemin anything before.  
  
As they run through Jongin's routine, his heart is filled with an emotion he doesn't feel much of. It's the sensation that he can actually provide something to someone who seems to have it all. That he isn't completely useless and that he can give something. Pride, he realizes later.  
  
  
  
  
They're both fifteen, and their bond has become practically unbreakable. The others always refer to them in tandem, it's always “Taemin and Jongin” and never their own separate names. But Jongin likes it that way, it makes him feel like he's part of something better than himself, because that little piece of Taemin might help him to shine.  
  
Sometimes they go to each other's houses for dinner. Jongin's mom dotes on Taemin and shovels more food on his plate any time it's even halfway gone. His sisters say that he has star power, and Jongin agrees silently. Taemin's mom seems concerned about Jongin when he's over, always asking if she can get him anything and if something is wrong. He always assures her that he's well, and thanks her with quiet smiles.  
  
One evening they're draped over Taemin's bed, exhausted from a hard day's practice while the smell of Taemin's mom's cooking wafts up to meet them. “Jongin...I think I have to tell you something,” Taemin says suddenly, lifting up on an elbow to look at him.  
  
Though he finds this slightly strange, Jongin grunts his encouragement.  
  
“I think...they want me to debut,” Taemin says, in a voice softer than usual.  
  
Jongin is silent, processing. Taemin has been pulled away by managers a bit more than usual, and sometimes he doesn't make their usual meetings like he used to. It makes sense, but Jongin still doesn't anticipate it. “Oh,” is all he can muster for the moment.  
  
“'Oh?' Are you alright? You aren't mad at me, are you?”  
  
He's never been good with friendship, he reminds himself, because he knows that this is the time he's supposed to support Taemin. It's what they've been working at for so long, and his dream is going to become a reality. Sitting up, he forces himself to allow a smile to spread to his lips, though how convincing it is he can't say. “Why would I be mad at you? That's...amazing. You should have said so sooner, we should celebrate,” he says with more life than he may have ever dragged out of himself.  
  
Taemin almost looks concerned with the sudden change. “Really? I didn't want to say anything until it was a sure thing, you know? I didn't want to jinx it,” he explains, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.  
  
Jongin reaches to flick Taemin's forehead jokingly, “Dummy. Of course I'm happy, how selfish do you think I am?”  
  
They celebrate with Taemin's mom making his favorite foods, and Jongin assures Taemin that he'll buy him a special cake or something tomorrow. When he leaves to go home, he's all smiles and assurances that Taemin is going to be great and that he's excited for him.  
  
When he gets home, however, all semblance of his faked excitement disappears. It's not that he isn't happy for Taemin, he is. He wants him to do well and he knows that he deserves it. He also knows that he himself isn't ready for a debut, he's too inexperienced and Taemin is better. It isn't any of those things, it's the simple fact that he's about to go back to his isolated darkness.  
  
He locks himself in his bathroom, taking deep and careful breaths to steady himself. He sits for long minutes, waiting for the drowning sensation to quiet itself. Stripping off his clothing, he turns on the shower, letting steam fill the room and cloud around him. Stepping inside, the heat burns his skin, but he doesn't turn it off. He lets it beat onto him until his tanned skin is a bright red, screaming for relief.  
  
A wetness mists his eyes, and he stands under the water so that he won't be able to tell what's the shower or his own tears. He hates himself for not managing to be happy for Taemin, hates that he can't just be genuinely happy for his friend's success. But without his shining star, he doesn't know how he can keep the darkness from taking over again. It feels like it had only just begun to dim to a deep grey around the edges.  
  
Slumping against the wall, he runs his fingernails down over his skin, a familiar gesture to him when he's feeling stressed. But it isn't enough, the pain isn't taking his mind away from his self-hatred like it usually does. He digs deeper, harsher scratches along his body, whitening under his touch before turning a deep red.  
  
Choking out a strangled cry, he continues to dig at himself, shorn nails ripping into his skin in little bits. Tiny dots of blood begin to bubble over the marks, and it's only then that he feels incrementally better. He wants to make himself as ugly as his thoughts are, wants to tear himself apart.  
  
The next day, he realizes that he shouldn't have done it. There are bruises on his skin from where he's hit himself and gripped too hard, scratches mark the surface of his skin. A couple of them are so deep they look like cuts, one on his shoulder and one along his thigh. Even his face hasn't completely escaped his turmoil, faint marks trail over his cheeks and neck and he swears softly as he gazes upon himself.  
  
He wears sweatpants and a thick hoodie despite the fact that it's in the middle of summer. But it's easier to hide that way, he can retreat and go unnoticed. His mom asks if he isn't too hot, and he just shrugs and leaves to go practice some more.  
  
Taemin gives him a slightly funny look when he arrives at the coffee shop. “Aren't you dying? It's already hot,” he points out before he turns to order their iced teas and pastries. Though he's been selected to debut, he wants to make sure he's in top condition before they really begin to fully do the preparations.  
  
“It's not that bad,” Jongin mumbles quietly, dipping his head down a bit lower into the hood. He can't explain what happened, not when he was trying so hard to be happy for Taemin just last night.  
  
But, of course, it is that bad. It's only a few routines in and Jongin feels like he's about to pass out from exhaustion and heat stroke. “I need a break,” he says, panting harshly as he slides down the mirrored wall.  
  
Taemin frowns a little. “Take off your hoodie, dude, you're dying.”  
  
“I can't,” he says, and immediately realizes he probably shouldn't have drawn such drastic attention to it. He offers a half-smile instead to lessen his words, “I'm just tired as hell today.”  
  
Taemin doesn't push the subject, and they return to the routine a few more times before Jongin is laid out again. “Go ahead, I'll just lay here,” he waves a hand to his friend.  
  
There's a quiet snort. “You're ridiculous,” Taemin protests and bends down unzipping Jongin's hoodie forcefully.  
  
He freezes, arms immediately coming around himself. “Stop that, I told you it's fine.”  
  
“What the hell, Jongin? It's over 90 in here,” he gives the sweatshirt a tug.  
  
Jongin winces, both at the possibility of Taemin seeing him and of the pain the rub of fabric has caused. “Stop, stop it,” he finally growls out, pulling away from Taemin and sliding away.  
  
A look that can only be described as a mix between hurt and concern flashes over Taemin's expression before he sits down, not edging too close. “Jongin. Okay, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that,” he pauses, takes a breath. “But what is going on with you? You were fine yesterday...I don't want to pry, but what the hell are you hiding?”  
  
He knows that Taemin won't judge him for anything, he's proven that time and again, and yet Jongin still feels his throat close up a bit at the other's concern. “I...” he pauses, unsure what to say to even begin to explain any of this. He glances over to the other trainees, still working on their routines intently. “Come with me,” he tilts a head and slides up, leading the way to the bathrooms. He can't trust others, he can barely even trust Taemin. Any sign of weakness is ammunition for the others.  
  
“You're starting to scare me,” he gives off a nervous laugh, but it's still the brightest thing in Jongin's day.  
  
There's a pain in his stomach as he remembers that it won't be long until he doesn't hear that laugh so regularly anymore. After pulling Taemin into the bathroom and checking that others aren't lurking, he sighs. “It's nothing, really. I just...sometimes I get really scared, you know? Of other people, of not being good enough, of being alone. I'm just...I don't know, Taeminnie. I really am happy for you to debut, I'm just really scared for myself,” he admits, and a part of him wonders if this is the most he's ever said at any given time to someone. “And I know that's super selfish and I'm really sorry, but I just...when I get scared I kind of want to hide and...”  
  
He's stopped when Taemin reaches out a hand to rest on his arm, touch warm and comforting. “Jongin, it's okay. I get it, I'm scared too, you know? I don't think I'm ready, I'm so scared I'm going to mess this all up and they'll realize they made a mistake.”  
  
“That won't happen, you're going to be great,” he replies immediately, though his skin tingles with the warmth of where Taemin touches him. He knows that launching into this discussion is just partially an excuse to get out of talking about the marks adorning his body and what he's actually hiding under his hoodie, but none of it is exactly a lie either.  
  
“And so will you,” Taemin smiles, brighter than the sun. “Just remember, Jongin, even if we aren't debuting at the same time, we'll always be close, right? I'll always be here for you and you'll always have me.” For a brief moment, Taemin's smile wavers, and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips.  
  
Jongin's throat clenches, the sincerity in his voice catching him by surprise. But before he can process it, two arms are around him, holding him close. He breathes in Taemin's scent, arms hesitantly going to wrap around the other's waist, and he's never felt so warm inside. Taemin shines like the brightest star, and for a moment all the darkness melts away as he touches him.  
  
When they go back out to the studio, Jongin sheds his hoodie. Taemin asks what happened to his arm, and Jongin simply shrugs and says that he was playing with his dogs and they got a little feisty. Even if Taemin doesn't believe him, he lets it go.  
  
They begin to see less and less of one another as Taemin starts to become more involved with the individuals he's set to debut with. Jongin doesn't know them all that well, beyond a few shared words and a mutual understanding. Part of him wants to hide Taemin from them, at least until he makes sure that they're going to be good for him to be around. But then another part of him knows well that Taemin has never had a problem with others, that he draws them all into his shining aura.  
  
But even as he watches Taemin reach for his success, he feels himself crumbling slowly. For so long he could ignore the bad things in his life because there was always the promise that Taemin would be there at the end of most days, and at the very least always at the end of a week. But that promise isn't there any longer, soon enough he won't be seeing Taemin at all since he'd no longer have much need to be in the trainee building.  
  
One night, he gets back to his home late in the evening, caught up in drowning out his own thoughts to the music. But his father is still awake, a fact that surprises Jongin given that he usually has to get up early for his work. “Dad?” he asks softly, almost hesitant. He can see a glass with remnants of liquor inside.  
  
“Fairy boy,” the man mumbles, words slurring a bit before he turns his unfocused gaze onto Jongin. “Someone said that to me today. That you're a fairy. Little twinkle-toes...is it true? Why did I raise a son at all...” he trails off, reaching for the glass again.  
  
Jongin's stomach clenches, bile rising in the back of his throat. It isn't the first time that his father has called him such things, isn't the first time he has insinuated that Jongin isn't worthy of the title of son. “Dad...I'm not,” he says softly. He's been called it for so long, and most of the time he doesn't even bother to dignify anyone with a response. But he hates whenever his father seems to look down on him like that, seems to think less of him. Of course, there is guilt laden in the pit of his stomach at the reality that he doesn't like girls like he is supposed to, that he really is a fairy. And he hates that even more, hates that he doesn't have a desire for soft curves and lilting voices.  
  
Most of the time the comments his father makes don't escalate to anything more, and Jongin can simply walk away from it. But the night doesn't seem to be in his favor, as his father stands and yells obscenities toward him.  
  
Worthless. I wish you hadn't been born. You'd be better of dead than a fairy. Mama's boy.  
  
Jongin's heart hammers in his chest at the assault, wanting to hide and curl in on himself away from the words hurled in his direction. His breath quickens in panic, unable to allow his lungs to fill before something else left him gasping. “Stop,” he pleads quietly, feeling his eyes mist with tears.  
  
“Are you crying? Boys don't cry,” his father yells, reaching back and letting a hand come to whack Jongin across the face, the sound loud in the otherwise silent house.  
  
Shock spreads through him, followed immediately by the taste of blood and a sting of pain. He glares up at him, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill. Wordlessly, he slips around the man's form, slinking away to go and hide in his room. He knows the others probably heard, but he also knows that none of them are willing to face his father to deal with it.  
  
The next day, his lip is swollen and cracked, and he swears under his breath, knowing that he can't cover up something like that. When he makes it to breakfast, his father doesn't look at him, and his mother keeps trying to offer him food as a comfort. He brushes them both off, saying that he has to go to school.  
  
He doesn't go to school that day, he goes to the company to practice instead. It keeps him from thinking, from going into a tailspin of anger and self hatred. He pushes himself hard, working on routines that are too complex to ever be used, and he doesn't stop until they're perfected. It's well after sunset when Taemin suddenly appears in the doorway, most of the studio already cleared out.  
  
“I tried texting you, but when I didn't get an answer I figured you'd be here,” Taemin explains with a little laugh.  
  
Jongin keeps his gaze low, not wanting Taemin to see his split lip. “Where else am I ever? Did you need me?” he asks, though he knows that Taemin never actually needs him.  
  
Taemin shrugs. “I don't know, we're debuting tomorrow. I guess I just wanted to see you. Want to grab a coffee with me or something? I'm just kind of nervous.”  
  
He doesn't think he's ever actually seen Taemin nervous, so he can't resist a small smile despite the spark of pain that reminds him. “Sure,” he agrees easily, turning away for a moment to pack up his things.  
  
They go to their usual cafe and sit down in a booth with cups of cocoa clutched in their hands. “Are you going to tell me what happened to your face? Or did your dog do that as well?” Taemin asks, a gentle sort of tease in his tone.  
  
Jongin breathes out a half-laugh, wishing that Taemin would have been be too polite to mention it. But their relationship has never been that way, they've always been able to call each other on what's wrong. “It's nothing. My dad...got a little drunk last night, it's fine,” he brushes it off. He can't lie to Taemin, he doesn't want to protect his life from him.  
  
However, when he glances up, Taemin has a frown creasing his brow. “Jongin...are you sure it's fine? Has this happened before?” all traces of teasing have gone away now, only a concerned prodding.  
  
Images flash momentarily of the ways it's happened in years past. Shoving him when he was too slow, twisting his arm for accidentally spilling some juice on the floor, pinching him until bruising when he let a swear word slip out in front of a family friend. He clears his throat softly. “Not like this. But really, it's...fine. We're here for you,” he tries to change the topic, gaze pleading with Taemin to not make him talk about it.  
  
Taemin fixes him with a hard stare, seeming to evaluate the situation. He finally releases a soft sigh, but his fingers reach out to grasp hold of Jongin's hand, linking their hands together. “You know that I'm here for you always? No matter what happens, I've got you,” he says softly, but there's a spark in his expression that speaks of his earnestness.  
  
Jongin distracts Taemin for the next few hours by letting him talk all about the debut process, about the members, about the plans. He merely nods along and laughs, asking a question here and there to keep Taemin talking. When his friend gets a nervous look again, Jongin changes the subject to talk about something else, some recent movie or something he saw on TV that will take his mind off of his worries. At the end of it, when Taemin has to pull himself away to catch the train, he offers Jongin an appreciative smile.  
  
The next day, Jongin is one of the first to buy the album, sending a little whisper toward the heavens to take care of Taemin.

The next years pass in a haze of darkness, of Jongin trying and failing to adjust to his own world without his shining star in it. He watches everything they do, with rapt attention and adoration for Taemin as he watches them continue to soar. Taemin is always bright, shining on television and as he dances and speaks to the others. He sees him grow into adulthood through the eyes of his computer screen and television, but he doesn't get to see much of him. They send occasional messages, but Jongin doesn't want to be a burden on his life.  
  
Scars mark up Jongin's thighs, remnants of a blade running over the tanned flesh repeatedly over years. The thighs are easiest to hide, so he won't have to explain to makeup artists or managers why he looks sliced open.  
  
When Jongin gets told that he's going to debut, the first person he calls is Taemin. There isn't an answer, of course, but he ends up half-yelling into the phone about the information. It's everything he's been working tirelessly for after so many years, and it's within arm's reach.  
  
The next months pass in a blur of scheduling and filming, of knowing the other members and memorizing dances. He's met some of the others during their time training, but others he doesn't know very well. He helps to choreograph some of the dances, something that feels daunting but exciting. He can't remember feeling excited very often.  
  
He learns to wear masks to hide himself from everyone's prying eyes. When he's performing, he's all feigned confidence and easy smirks, exuding the sexuality the company asks of him. When the cameras stop, he's shy and hidden, smiling shyly at the fans as they snap his photo with their cell phones. None of them are genuine, but he lets them believe it is.  
  
It's more months until he and Taemin are able to meet again. They've called each other on occasion, when either of them had the time, but mostly it's texts they send to keep a tether to one another. They agree to meet at Taemin's house, with both of their schedules free and Taemin mostly wanting to just relax instead of having more cameras flash on them.  
  
It feels like a long time since he's been in Taemin's home, and he greets his mother with his usual shy smile. She tells him that she's proud of him too before she tells them she promised her friend she would attend a dinner party she's having. Taemin waves her away with a quick kiss to her cheek, telling her that they'd order dinner.  
  
When they're along, Taemin immediately sweeps Jongin into a tight hug, burying his nose into his neck. A tingle shoots down Jongin's spine, and a warmth spreads over him as he wraps his arms around Taemin's waist. “I missed you,” Taemin admits, voice a little breathy.  
  
The warmth of his breath cascades over Jongin's shoulder, and he lets out a quiet laugh. “I thought you'd be too busy to miss me,” he jokes, but it's immediately followed by another squeeze and a whispered, “I missed you too.”  
  
Taemin pulls back finally, smile beaming up at him. “I'd never be too busy for you. Plus, you're finally debuting,” he reminds, reaching to ruffle Jongin's hair.  
  
“Yeah, that's still kind of surreal,” he admits. They make conversation while Taemin orders their dinner, Jongin talks about some of the other members and Taemin tries to remember some of them. But a handful entered the company after Taemin was already long gone, so Jongin simply fills him in on what he knows so far. And Taemin tells Jongin all about his adventures in Japan and on different shows. Jongin listens with rapt attention, wanting to consume all the pieces of Taemin he's missed out on over the years.  
  
It's only after they've finished dinner that Jongin admits to being scared. “They don't like me, Taemin. Already. Have you seen the teasers?” he asks, voice soft.  
  
“Jongin...” Taemin says, reaching a hand to rest on top of his.  
  
His skin feels alive with the brush of their knees and their proximity together on the couch. “They call me arrogant...I'm not arrogant,” he half-whines. He doesn't mention that the nameless people also make jokes about his skin color, they say he's overly exposed and not talented enough. If Taemin has seen it, he knows, but he doesn't want to speak the words.  
  
“Shh, you aren't. They just don't know you yet, when they do they'll love you as much as I do,” Taemin says, voice taking on a playful gushing quality as he squeezes Jongin's hand.  
  
Though he knows that the words are nothing more than a joke between friends, he can't help the way that his stomach leaps when he hears Taemin say that he loves him. He brushes on a smile, something he's getting better at the more the cameras are on him. “They also say we look alike, have you heard that one?” he asks.  
  
Taemin snorts softly. “Yeah, someone said you're like a darker version of me,” he shrugs.  
  
The words hit him with a sharp pang, but it resonates with truth. It's nothing to do with the color of their skin, though he knows that was the intention. But it's more that where Taemin resonates with rays of light, he is the dark counterpart that absorbs all brightness. “I guess I am,” he relents softly.  
  
There's a moment's pause. “Jongin, can I do something I've wanted to do for a long time?”  
  
Confusion causes Jongin to furrow his brow slightly, “Huh? Yeah...”  
  
Taemin lets his teeth graze over his bottom lip for a brief moment before he leans in. Jongin's breath catches in his throat, just one second before soft lips fall on his. Sparks of light seem to surround him, the world momentarily seems to pause as they kiss for the first time.  
  
All too soon, Taemin pulls away. “I'm sorry...”  
  
“Why?” Jongin whispers, though the question asks so much more.  
  
There's an unreadable look on Taemin's face before his gaze drops. “I just...I thought...”  
  
Jongin has never seen Taemin doubt himself. He's seen him get frustrated, seen him exhausted, seen him disappointed. But he's never seen his confidence waver like it seems to now. “You're right,” he finally admits, reaching up to tilt Taemin's face toward him. “I've wanted that for a long time too.”  
  
Relief sweeps over Taemin's face. “Jesus, I was so scared that I read all of this wrong, I was about to go throw myself in front of a bus,” he laughs, still a little nervous. He leans into Jongin's touch. “I just...never knew if you wanted that. Wanted me? I mean, you're so unreadable sometimes.”  
  
“I know, and I'm sorry. But I do, I always have,” he says, thumb sweeping over Taemin's cheekbone.  
  
“This is going to be really hard, you know.”  
  
“Yeah, but it's worth it.”  
  
They ignore the meaning behind how difficult it will be to press more soft, exploring kisses against each other's lips. Neither of them have much experience with others, just a few testing dates and kisses with their friends. But it's nothing like this, the surge of electricity and fire that seems to spread through Jongin's body every time they kiss.  
  
When Taemin's mom pulls up, they have to break away from each other, Taemin easing up off of where he and Jongin had reclined to be more comfortable. Jongin feels his face heat up slightly, but he stifles his embarrassment as she comes in with her usual smile. “Oh, Jongin, you're still here?” she asks, not unkindly.  
  
“Um, I was about to leave, actually, I have filming tomorrow,” he explains, which is true, even if he doesn't actually want to go. Taemin squeezes his hand once before he slips out the door.  
  
  
  
  
They end up falling into a sort of rhythm, sneaking kisses in dark corners where no one can see them. Their schedules don't entwine all that often, but they are sure to take advantage of the times when they do. They plan out when they'll be going home so that they can get a few hours away from the eyes and spotlights. Most of their interaction is still through texts to one another, though often they are guarded with those as well, just in case anyone witnesses.  
  
They create different meanings to seemingly innocuous sayings. Hellos and goodbyes are suddenly reminders of their affections. Their inside jokes feel like an unbreakable bond. Every mention of having time off becomes tied with them being together again.  
  
Much of their relationship is still unchanged, however; they still talk about the same worries and concerns that they always have, still make the same remarks about each other. Jongin likes it that way, it doesn't feel like a shift has happened that he has to be fearful of. Everyone else goes away, but Taemin is always there in his quiet ways.  
  
There are fans who notice their interactions, of course, the fans are the ones who notice more than anyone else. Some begin to theorize about the extent of their relationship, to which Jongin and Taemin only laugh and brush the thoughts away. It's easy to play along around the fans, they're known to spread rumors about everyone as it is, so no one takes it seriously. However, the other members are harder to deal with.  
  
At one point Sehun, the only member younger than Jongin - which helps them to become close - quirks an eyebrow at him when he sees the smile that appears on Jongin's face when he receives a text from Taemin. “No judgment, but are you two...more than just friends?” Sehun asks, glancing over from the TV. They don't get that much time to just relax, and Jongin has gotten used to savoring those moments of quiet and when there's fewer members around.  
  
Over the months of knowing him, Jongin has gotten used to Sehun being rather blunt and simply saying what he thinks rather than being terribly tactful. He doesn't mind, he prefers that the other is so straightforward, even if he's sometimes hard to read. But the question still catches him off-guard, not having discussed what they would say to their fellow members. “Um...why do you ask that?” he asks instead, stalling. He knows that most of the others have gone out for the evening, that only Junmyeon remains lurking somewhere in their dorm, but it still makes him skeptical.  
  
Sehun hums softly. “Just a question. You seem happier around him. Plus you two are always sneaking off together, so...” he trails off, ending with a shrug. “Like I said, no judgment, though. It's cool with me.”  
  
“Yeah...I guess?” he finally says softly, and he can't help the warmth that stains his cheeks a shy pink. It's the first time he's said anything of the sort out loud, and it feels strange to admit something so personal. But Sehun makes him more comfortable than most people do, so he finds it a pleasant sort of embarrassment instead of the nauseating kind.  
  
No more is said from either of them about it, Sehun only smiles slightly and nods.  
  
  
  
  
After a day of filming, Jongin slumps onto his bed, head aching from the day's busy schedule and swimming in his own thoughts. Everything suddenly feels hopeless, dark, draining. The others went out to a recently opened restaurant to end the evening, but Jongin couldn't force himself to smile for another minute, and brushed them all aside to return to the dorm. Shadows cover every corner, sweeping blanketed darkness over him and the bedroom. A need rises in him that he's avoided for months, a desire dark and twisted and aching to be released.  
  
Desperate hands run over his sweaty hair, trying to block out the thoughts that swim up to meet him. He hates that he always seems so powerless against his own self, that he can't tolerate being alone with his thoughts for long until he needs to escape himself. He knows that he should be counting his blessings, that he's successful and lucky and that other people have things so much worse than he does. But that only makes him feel worse, makes him remember how selfish and useless he is that he still focuses on being a little bit sad when he should be thankful.  
  
He knows that it's pointless to recognize, knows that even if he tries to talk himself away from the ledge that he's about to fall down anyway. With a heaved groan, he slips out of the bed and stalks into the kitchen. As he stares into the knife block, he knows that he should find a way to distract himself, should find something else to occupy his mind. That he could go practice or call Taemin or should even change his mind and go find the other members at the restaurant. But he also knows that he won't.  
  
Slipping out a small, thin knife from its block, he lightly brushes a finger across its blade to check its sharpness. Satisfied, he takes the knife and retreats into the bathroom. Though no one is home, it's his safety net. There's first aid in the bathroom in case he makes a mistake, there's water to clean himself with, and most importantly – he can shut the door to block prying eyes.  
  
The first cut is always the most satisfying. The slow drag of the blade across his thigh brings a burning sensation of relief, the bubble of blood that swells up from the cut serves to quell his desires for a moment. It's release in its purest form, it feels as though with letting out the blood he is allowing some of his darkness to leak out with it.  
  
Scars of all shades mark his legs. Pale slits of years past, angry red tears speak of those formed not so long ago. They are battle marks, his badges of honor in the fight against himself.  
  
They disgust him.  
  
They are weakness, despair, hatred; a reminder of everything long gone past. They are a testimony to how he allowed people to tear him up inside, a document of his attempt to exercise his own demons. Part of him knows that all of this is beyond repair, beyond his own abilities to repair himself. But he can't make himself stop, can't understand how to reach out for anything.  
  
He doesn't even register how much time passes, doesn't hear the front door open or voices spilling into the dorm. He's too intent on watching himself bleed, on cutting marks over and over again into his legs. So he doesn't realize until it's too late that he never locked the bathroom door.  
  
His gaze shoots up when the door opens, immediately curling in on himself to try and hide himself and his damage. Sehun stares in open-mouthed shock, “Jongin...”  
  
“Please...go...” Jongin asks carefully, voice hoarse and cracked from not using it in a while, from the emotion that's bubbling underneath the surface. Fear washes over him, that Sehun could tell anyone else and he might be demanded to get help. That he could be locked away, or sent home, too unstable for a life of fame.  
  
To his surprise, Sehun does. He presses his lips together before nodding and shutting the door behind him. Jongin's chest clenches, hot tears well up in his eyes. Quickly, he stands and begins to clean himself up, angry at not having paid enough attention to realize he was no longer alone.  
  
When he finally emerges from the bathroom, no one else seems to have any clue about what Sehun witnessed, instead they say that they wish he'd come along. Jongin offers a polite smile and a simple, “Maybe next time,” before he excuses himself to go to sleep.  
  
An hour later, Jongin is still laying in bed, curled up against the wall. He tries to sleep, but the embrace of slumber eludes him. When the door opens, he assumes that it's Kyungsoo, but when there's a soft call of, “Jonginnie...” his eyes snap open and he immediately sits up. Taemin stands in the doorway, a small smile playing on his face.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Jongin asks, surprise evident in his voice. There's a stinging behind his eyes again, tears threatening to well up and spill over at the relief of seeing the other.  
  
“Sehun called me...” Taemin admits, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind him. “He didn't exactly give me the details, but he said that you weren't doing so well and that I should come as soon as I could. What's going on, Jongin?”  
  
Part of him wants to be surprised, but another part suggests that he maybe should have expected something like that. He doesn't know how he can possibly thank Sehun later, but he pushes away that worry and extends his arms to the other. “Come here?”  
  
Taemin offers a quiet little laugh, but he goes over to the bed and squeezes in beside Jongin, arms wrapping around his waist as he pulls him close, their chests flush against each other in the bed. Warm lips press against Jongin's cheek, trailing down to the corner of his lips. “I'm here now. Talk to me,” he prods.  
  
Jongin lets out a soft sigh, snuggling into the warm embrace of the other, tangling their legs together. He knows that it's very possible anyone could walk in at any moment, but he can't bother to care. “I missed you,” he says softly. His entire being tingles from touching Taemin, and he's relieved to have his starlight back with him.  
  
“I missed you, too, baby,” Taemin whispers, pressing a soft kiss to Jongin's lips.  
  
Fire burns inside of him at the kiss, just as it always does when their lips meet. He knows that Taemin is still waiting on an answer, but he doesn't pressure him to talk if he's not prepared, and that only makes him love him more. “It's just...everything,” he begins after a moment of silence. “There's all this pressure, and everyone has so many expectations. Everyone just keeps waiting for me to fail, and it's too much. Maybe my dad and everyone else is right, I'm just...not for this. I'm not good enough for any of this,” his voice is quiet, and his gaze is focused away from Taemin's eyes. He doesn't want to point out that he means more than just being onstage, that his words are even more that he doesn't think he's good enough to live.  
  
Taemin lets out a soft noise of consideration, a hand coming to brush hair out of Jongin's eyes. “You are good enough. You're wonderful, and it kills me that you can't see it,” he says, brushing a thumb over Jongin's cheekbone, “I know it's hard. But you can't let those people get to you. They never deserved you.”  
  
A single tear slips from his eye, and he clenches his jaw to try and quiet the ache inside himself. “I'm just so scared. Of myself, of letting you down. I want to make it all go away sometimes.”  
  
“You can never let me down, Jongin. I'm here no matter what happens, and I'll always be by your side, okay? I don't want you to hate yourself, I want you to see what I see,” Taemin's words are somber, calm and assuring.  
  
Jongin can feel himself beginning to calm down, can feel that his nerves are starting to quiet with Taemin's mere presence. “You're my light, Taemin, when I'm with you everything is okay again,” he admits, hand reaching up to lace their fingers together.  
  
Taemin smiles, face brightening in the darkness of the room. “Then how about you promise me something? Whenever things start getting dark for you, call me. I'll come to you with no questions, okay? Even if we can't be around each other, I'll talk you through the darkness. Alright? Will you promise me that? I don't want you to hurt like this.”  
  
Instead of answering, Jongin nods once. There's a lump in his throat at the words, and he aches for the warmth that suddenly spreads through his body. Leaning in, he presses a kiss to Taemin, soft and insistent. Taemin's fingers tighten around his, assurance written in the gesture as they kiss softly.  
  
It's sometime in the middle of the night when Taemin realizes that he needs to leave to go back to their dorm, and Jongin laughs quietly before walking him out. Most of the other members have already gone to bed, and they both know that Taemin is going to be exhausted tomorrow, a thought that causes Jongin to feel a twinge of guilt. They can't kiss each other goodbye at the door, but Taemin squeezes his hand tightly before leaving.  
  
Jongin sighs softly, glancing to Chanyeol on the couch. “Where's Sehun?” he asks.  
  
“Kitchen. Kid eats like an animal,” Chanyeol offers with a joking shake of his head.  
  
Though he hasn't spent much time knowing Chanyeol, he appreciates that he always seems to be so cheerful. He always makes a joke and offers a loud laugh to break any kind of tension, and though Jongin doesn't understand it, he can acknowledge that the other is a blessing to have around. With a snort, Jongin slips over to their kitchen where Sehun is rummaging in the fridge. “Sehun...”  
  
The other turns slightly to peer over his shoulder. “Yo?”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Sehun flaps a dismissive hand at him. “Don't be getting gross on me now. It's cool,” he shrugs, but pauses for a moment before continuing, “But if you have a...problem? Or want to...y'know, talk...then I'm here. Or whatever.”  
  
Jongin snorts softly, understanding that this was about as close to caring as Sehun would likely get. “Alright, thanks again,” he mutters before returning to bed, far more content than he'd been hours ago.  
  
  
  
  
One weekend, Jongin and Taemin manage to sneak off to Taemin's family home together, where they're inundated with hugs and words of praise from his mom. Jongin smiles bashfully and tries to humbly brush away the compliments. Taemin just laughs.  
  
The first night is spent in ways reminiscent of when they were still trainees, they laugh and watch ridiculous movies, they eat too much and play violent video games. It's a break for the both of them, and something about the normalcy in being together helps Jongin feel more reset from his stress.  
  
The next day, Taemin's mom has work, and his father has been away on business for a week, so they're left to their own devices. Taemin orders them in some food, and they pop on another movie. Part-way through and Jongin feels eyes boring into the side of his face. With a glance, he cocks a brow at Taemin who has a thoughtful expression. “What?”  
  
“Are you doing okay?” Taemin asks, a slight furrow to his brow.  
  
“Huh? Yeah, I'm fine...why?” Jongin blinks a couple of times, unsure about the seemingly out of place question.  
  
“No, I mean...you weren't doing so well that long ago, remember? Are you really okay? When I talked to Sehun that night he seemed really worried,” Taemin's voice carried a soft edge, almost careful.  
  
Biting his lip slightly, Jongin glanced to the ground. “I don't know. Sometimes I'm okay...and sometimes I'm not. You really helped, though, that night. I haven't done anything dumb like that since.”  
  
“What did you do that was dumb?” he asks, reaching out a hand to wrap his fingers around Jongin's.  
  
“Sehun didn't tell you?” Though it hadn't been mentioned one way or another, Jongin had assumed that he'd told Taemin about what he'd seen.  
  
Taemin shakes his head. “What is it?”  
  
Letting out a soft sigh, he shrugs a shoulder. “I shouldn't have mentioned it. It's nothing.”  
  
“Jongin...” There is a harsher tone to his boyfriend's words, one that warns of how he isn't about to let it go.  
  
And he knows the other well enough that he will eventually drag it out of him. Jongin groans softly. “That night...everything just sort of spiraled in my head. I kept remembering horrible things, and the only way I know how to deal with that is to...um, cut myself,” he admits, though his voice falls into a near-whisper.  
  
Fingers tighten around his. “Jongin...how long have you been doing this?”  
  
Jongin still can't bring himself to actually look at his boyfriend or meet his gaze. “A while...I don't remember, really. Maybe a few years ago?” he guesses, though he knows that he's only speaking to his actual cutting, the self-harm in other ways started long before.  
  
“That was never your dog, was it?” Taemin suddenly asks.  
  
Jongin frowns, unclear about the line of thought before the memory dawns. Of practicing in the summer and Jongin refused to take off his hoodie, and when he did he excused it away. He snorts softly, finally glancing to Taemin. “No, that was all me,” he says. Part of him feels like he's betraying a secret to himself at the admission of harm, but another part of him feels lighter, as though his self hatred has been lifted slightly in sharing it with someone else.  
  
“Come here,” Taemin pulls Jongin's hand, pulls him close until their foreheads are pressed together, noses brushing against one another. “I'm sorry. You never should have gone through so much, and I should have tried to talk to you about it. I knew you weren't okay...”  
  
“Don't blame yourself for my problems,” he reminds him, but he doesn't give his boyfriend a chance to argue again. He closes the distance, pressing their lips together softly, a hand cupping the other's cheek to pull him in.  
  
He can feel Taemin smile against the kiss, his fingers squeeze softly over Jongin's hand as he lets teeth graze over Jongin's plush mouth. It isn't long before tongues begin to brush against one another, exploring mouths and letting out soft breathy sounds into the kisses. Hands roam over clothed bodies, and it isn't long before they're left breathless and needy, Jongin softly suggesting that they go to Taemin's room.  
  
Taemin has never been pushy, has never asked for more than what Jongin was willing to give him. He knows that sometimes his boyfriend has been left wanting more, has been frustrated with their lack of time to be together. And Jongin can't say that sometimes he hasn't been left with too much pent up energy from their time together as well, but his fears and nervousness kept him from ever giving in to more than needy make-outs and petting over the clothes.  
  
There's a split second of hesitation from Taemin, one in which he pauses, a perfect moment of stillness. And then it's broken, and he is pulling Jongin up from the couch toward the bedroom they'd spent so many hours in together. Jongin lets out a soft laugh before he moves to lay back on the bed, pulling Taemin after him.  
  
His boyfriend lands half on top of him, and they share a smile. Jongin pulls him in, lips seeking and searching Taemin's own with a gentle insistence. Taemin settles himself between Jongin's legs, one hand going to stroke his lover's hair and the other sliding to run along his waist.  
  
“Is this okay?” he asks, voice nothing more than a whisper as his fingertips dance under the hem of Jongin's shirt.  
  
Taemin's fingers are cool against his warm skin, and he only gives him a slight nod before pulling the other back into their kiss. Fingers roam under the expanse of his torso, exploring familiarly. Jongin's muscles contract under the touches, unused to the tender displays, but he can only pull the other closer.  
  
It doesn't take long for them to be left breathless, panting and needy as they lay together. “Can I take off your shirt?” Taemin asks quietly after a moment, nose nuzzling against Jongin's jawline.  
  
Jongin allows him to, and pulls at Taemin's to do the same. They take their time with one another, exploring muscles and flesh with kisses and soft caresses. But there is a pit beginning to burn in Jongin's stomach, one that demands more and yearns for the desires that sneak into his fantasies when he's alone late at night. “Taemin...will you make love to me?” he suddenly asks, voice whisper-quiet, the question bringing a flushed heat to his cheeks.  
  
His boyfriend pauses, gaze shooting up to meet Jongin's own. “Are you sure?” he asks, fingers tightening at Jongin's waist.  
  
“Please...” he confirms, still a little bit embarrassed with the situation. But he's wanted to be this close to Taemin for years, wants to be filled with the other's light.  
  
Though there's no answer, Taemin leans to kiss Jongin again, and fingers reach to undo Jongin's belt. When Jongin allows his jeans to be slid down off his hips, Taemin sees the scars and marks that he's been hiding for so long. “Oh my god...Jongin...” he says softly, realization and sadness evident in his voice at the extent of his pain.  
  
Jongin can't excuse them, can only run his fingers through Taemin's hair and say that he's trying to get better. Taemin takes his time to kiss along Jongin's thighs, dotting each mark with his lips as though banishing the shadows with his radiance.  
  
They take things slowly, with Taemin checking often to make sure that it's what Jongin wants. And Jongin always says yes, and brings Taemin in to kiss him. It's the familiarity that calms him, even though he wants everything Taemin is willing to give.  
  
Taemin holds Jongin's hands as they make love, and Jongin presses soft kisses against Taemin's collarbones and shoulders. They breathe out soft moans of each other's names and whispered assurances. None of the darkness matters when Taemin is above him, body craving him and telling him that he's beautiful. They hit their peak holding one another closely, sounds muffled on sweat-slicked skin.  
  
When it's over, they continue to hold onto one another and smile lazily. It's the lightest Jongin has ever felt.  
  
  
  
  
Months later, everything has been a rush of promotions and a whirlwind that Jongin can hardly wrap his mind around. But everything feels a bit more manageable with getting closer to his other members and still talking to Taemin almost daily. Sometimes it's nothing more than a text good morning or good night, but it's enough for the both of them.  
  
One evening, Taemin shows up unannounced at the dorm, and a smile immediately breaks out over Jongin's expression when his boyfriend steps in. “Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, still very aware that Chanyeol and Sehun are in the room.  
  
Taemin shrugs. “I had a couple of hours free, thought I'd come see how things are going,” he says, playfully reaching out a hand to ruffle Jongin's hair.  
  
Sehun clears his throat. “Hey, Chanyeol...didn't you want to check out that new arcade? Let's go, I'm bored,” he half-whines.  
  
Chanyeol groans. “Yeah, but I also wanted to watch this,” he gestures towards the TV where a strange creature stomps through the streets.  
  
“Please?” Sehun tilts his head slightly, giving Chanyeol a pleading look that he only uses when he wants something. Jongin has learned not to even try and argue with it for very long.  
  
“Well aren't you two just adorable?” Taemin laughs at their display.  
  
There's a sigh from the couch before Chanyeol agrees and slips up to go with the younger. Sehun flashes a grin.  
  
Jongin mouths his thanks at the other boy before pulling Taemin into his bedroom. “You know, I was thinking. This might sound weird,” Jongin says, minutes after they've caught up on each other's lives and shared a few kisses.  
  
“You being weird? As if that's new,” Taemin jokes, entwining his arms around Jongin's waist and pulling him to sit between his legs.  
  
He snorts, leaning to rest against the other's chest. “I was just thinking the other day. Did you know I've fallen in love three times?”  
  
“What?” There's a pause. “Wait, is this about your dogs?”  
  
Jongin laughs softly. “No. That's a different kind of love anyway. That's like loving your kids...it's inherent. Falling in love is different, falling in love is almost like a realization.”  
  
Taemin presses a soft kiss to Jongin's neck. “Fair enough. So tell me about falling in love.”  
  
“The first time...it was with ballet. That sort of love was like destiny, you know? It was the first thing I ever really wanted to do, it was was a love of beauty. I fell in love with being able to be that beautiful.”  
  
“What's the second?” Taemin asks, allowing his chin to rest on Jongin's shoulder.  
  
“The second time was with performing. I wanted to be an entertainer, I wanted to be a star. I'd never wanted anything like that before. That kind of love was like a realization of what I was going to be no matter how long it took. I wanted to shine...”  
  
“You do shine, baby. Brighter than all the stars.”  
  
A smile slips onto Jongin's face, a warmth filling him. “Do you want to know the third?”  
  
“Tell me about it,” the smile is evident in Taemin's voice, hold tightening around his waist.  
  
“The third time was like a burst of fire, the brightest light I've ever seen. It was realization of what I wanted for the rest of my life, and it shone so brightly it took away most of my darkness. The third time I fell in love with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not used to writing canon and this style is kind of experimental for me, so I hope you guys enjoy it. This was originally posted for [k-crossover fest](http://k-crossoverfest.livejournal.com/2273.html).
> 
> [LJ](http://kumjongin.livejournal.com/) | [AFF](http://http://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/299505) | [Twitter](http://twitter.com/kumjongin) | [Tumblr](http://kumjongin.tumblr.com)


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